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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931934">Darkness and light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlinkedgirl/pseuds/waterlinkedgirl'>waterlinkedgirl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, cuddling prompted by Yips, surprisingly fluffy for what it is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterlinkedgirl/pseuds/waterlinkedgirl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For what purpose would Yukimura only leave Shiraishi's sense of touch?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Shiraishi Kuranosuke/Yukimura Seiichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Darkness and light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the match he had hoped for, and yet, as always, he got more than what he bargained. Shot after shot he chased, his Bible the only thing guiding him to the next, because this time Yukimura ended up taking Shiraishi's sense of hearing as well.  A shame, really, because no matter how much his shoulders shivered in thrill and fear, he missed hearing Yukimura's voice. In this match driven by raw instinct, where the final things he could rely on were his feelings, his mind, and the shape of the court engraved in his muscle memory.<br/>He wondered how Yukimura looked as he was standing in front of him. With what eyes he looked at his own desperate state. Judging from the weight of Yukimura's shots... A smirk made its way onto Shiraishi's face. Surely, it must be a dangerously beautiful sight.</p>
<p>40-15, Yukimura to serve. Shiraishi readied to return from where his best guess of the baseline was, fingers briefly pulling on the strings of his gut. He was here, right now, reduced to nothing but the feel of the racket in his hands, feet on the floor and the burning in his body. Counting his racing heartbeats until the moment he knew the ball hit Yukimura's racket.<br/>He sprinted to the left, where by the thousandth miracle of today, his racket connected to the ball once more.<br/>Even in this state of being, he hadn't given up on trying to score points off of him, and even though his muscles fought just trying to keep his face on the ball, just trying to make it in time to the next, he kept looking for the chance to set up a play. Yukimura wouldn't give him a blind spot, no matter how much Shiraishi wore him down, after all. He'd have to create it, himself. To pick Yukimura's perfect defense apart at the seams, the same way Yukimura was getting under his own skin. It felt impossible, and his heart knew it was, especially since Yukimura had thrown his jersey to the bleachers back when he could still see.</p>
<p>Forehand or backhand, lob or drop. That's all that mattered to him now. Yukimura's overwhelming shots were becoming ever harder to predict, he didn't knew whether that was because of Yukimura's Yips taking hold of his last shred of rational thinking, or because of how long the match had been going on. It felt like hours. Hours of Yukimura forcing him to the edge of what his body and mind could take, and keeping him there. Hours of harsh ecstasy.<br/>His shoes creaked, lower legs creaked as he reached wide to catch what he hoped was a lob when finally, his racket hit air.</p>
<p>Barely, he was able to break his fall, the fabric of his shirt sliding over the slightly sandy acrylic. It was over. The match was over. And he couldn't find the strength in his heaving body to get up, either.<br/>He knew for one that there were very few people who could last a full set against Yukimura, even with only some of their senses stolen, and that he was one of them. But that didn't make defeat less bitter.</p>
<p>Filling his lungs with much-needed air, gasping, the heat of the summer sun prickling on his skin, he managed to roll onto his back. It was over, the game was done... Time felt slow without the regular drone of Yukimura's shots against his arm, no matter how electrifyingly terrifying they may be, and his heart filled with a sense of loss.</p>
<p>Right now, he couldn't do anything but try to get his breathing under control. If the pain in his arms and legs was anything to go by, he shouldn't even be thinking of getting up within the next half hour.<br/>As he slowed his breath, he closed his eyes, not that it mattered much as his vision still hadn't returned yet.</p>
<p>Against his back on the ground, he felt vibrations, footsteps, a slow and light pass. <br/>Yukimura.</p>
<p>He had to be close by if he could feel his footsteps on the floor, he knew. The pass halted, and he tried to judge just how close Yukimura was, now that he'd become invisible. He didn't know anything, but that Yukimura was probably looking over his tattered shape. Honestly, that was not too bad an image.</p>
<p>Tips of fingers moved over his wrist, lightly, softly, and he felt a noise escape past his throat when they moved over his palm. Yukimura briefly stopped, before taking Shiraishi's hand in his. A rough, calloused but fine hand, slightly damp to the touch. His own was lifted off the ground by those very fingers, into the air all the way until his arm was stretched.<br/>In the silence of the world around him, the touch of Yukimura's hand on his was almost too much to handle.</p>
<p>With the last bit of his power, Shiraishi squeezed it, the second Yukimura let go his arm plummeting back to the floor again.</p>
<p>The wind drying his sweat was the only thing of the outside world left to him, left alone in silence to breathe. He struggled to remember if he had heard Yukimura walk away... The thought of him leaving Shiraishi to lie there alone to recover brought a pang of pain to his heart.<br/>It turned out his lack of memory wasn't for no reason, though. A warm hand slipped around his thigh, after all, an arm behind his back, a weight falling off.<br/>Powerlessly Shiraishi's own arms made their way to rest around Yukimura's shoulders as he was lifted in the air, and he didn't know whether he imagined it or whether his sense of smell was starting to return, but when he leaned into Yukimura's embrace he could almost swear he could smell the vaguest hint of flowers and the faint undertone of Yukimura's sweat. Soft lips, briefly leaning against Shiraishi's head in response, a smile making its way on his face.</p>
<p>Yukimura retightened his grip on him— Shiraishi was heavy, he supposed— and quietly Shiraishi let himself be carried away. He regretted not having the strength to help Yukimura redistribute his weight, Yukimura was tired too, he supposed, but for now it just had to be so.</p>
<p>Feeling Yukimura's breathing, his heartbeat, was strangely calming. In, out. A regular thumping. Even without hearing, he knew what kind of sound it was. He was about to lose himself in it, in the regular sway of Yukimura's pass, when that very pass suddenly halted. Surely, Yukimura must've taken his sense of time as well, he thought. He didn't know how far Yukimura had carried him, after all, but it couldn't be that far.</p>
<p>They turned, and still in deafening silence Shiraishi felt himself being lowered onto something soft— the bench in the garden nearby, no doubt. Under his legs, however, he found Yukimura's own. They were in the shade now, he could tell from the temperature, but Yukimura's legs were still warm.</p>
<p>Warm, he found it, as Yukimura moved the hand under his thighs to rest on top of his head. For a second, Shiraishi worried about the cushion getting dirty because of his shoes, before he became aware of his feet dangling off the ledge. It wasn't long that he had the space of mind to worry about that, though. Slowly, gently, Yukimura's fingers stroked his locks, taking his focus away from everything else. Warm and comfortable, he softly shivered.<br/>But even though he knew this light wind blew through his hair, another through the trees sheltering them from the sun, he still couldn't hear the rustling of the leaves.</p>
<p>"Why..." he felt his mouth forming the words he thought of, but he could only hope they sounded the same as well, "didn't you take my sense of feeling?"<br/>A warm finger, on his lips. In his mind's eye, he could see Yukimura smile as fingertips landed on his cheek, like a gentle rain, slowly dropping off to stroke the ridge of his chin.</p>
<p>Yukimura's touch as the only thing in his world was hypnotising, soothing. Soon enough, the hand on his back moved too, first tentatively, to see if Shiraishi would stay upright, until it took to gentle strokes, longer with each passing wave, but not faster. </p>
<p>Using the arms around Yukimura's shoulders as leverage, Shiraishi snuggled closer to him, leaning his head in the nook of Yukimura's neck.<br/>It was only the faint dampness remaining on Yukimura's skin that reminded him of the terrifying match of before, and then, that gentle touch putting him at ease with every curl and circle of his fingers... In a completely different sense from their match, the sole thing remaining in his world, that touch thrilled him.</p>
<p>Shiraishi smiled.<br/>It was enough for him to know the answer to his question tenfold over.</p>
<p>He took his own shoes off with his toes and curled up on the bench, just to be closer to Yukimura's warmth. Hands, fingers, his own he lifted as well to the best of his ability just to stroke his thumb over Yukimura's neck. A tiny sign of his own affection, gladly reciprocated by Yukimura himself by playful drawing on his back.</p>
<p>The hand cradling his cheek moved a strand of hair behind Shiraishi's ear, and suddenly, he felt Yukimura laugh. Surely, some weird kind of purr must've escaped from his throat, he presumed. Shiraishi chuckled. He was fine with that, really. He'd let out the weirdest and most genuine purrs if he wanted to, and if it meant Yukimura laughing... </p>
<p>Shiraishi opened his eyes to look at that smile, before realizing his vision was still gone. Darkness. Without thinking, his fingers gripped Yukimura's shoulder tighter, an inkling of the match returning to his subconscious, but Yukimura held him tighter into his arms and dispelled it. Bit by bit, the tension flowed from Shiraishi's shoulders.<br/>The tips of Yukimura's fingers trailed the space above his eyelids, and guided by that hint, Shiraishi slowly closed them again.<br/>"Right," he whispered. Yukimura's chest buzzed against his, a sign he should be speaking to his deaf ears, but nonetheless he knew they couldn't be anything else but gentle words.<br/>It was alright. He was alright, even though he couldn't see or hear. Yukimura would be there with him.</p>
<p>Before long, Yukimura leaned his head down against his, the wavy strands of his hair softly tickling Shiraishi's ear. He wondered if they stayed like this, he could let Yukimura's hands lull him to sleep. He wondered if he wanted to, after all, falling asleep would mean becoming unconscious of that touch. That's something he felt would be a waste, now that he could feel them all so sharply.<br/>In all cases, he didn't mind resting like this, no. Until the rest of his senses returned. And perhaps... a bit longer. Just for good measure.</p>
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